


The Open Door

by orphan_account



Category: Produce 101 (TV), X1 (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Fae & Fairies, M/M, Sexual Content, dark fairy!wooseok, implied seungwoo/jinhyuk because it’s me, not really smut but it’s there, wooseok is evil but it’s fine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 08:11:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20306260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Seungyoun goes to the club with some friends and gets swept away by a mysterious violinist who can play over the music. He later gets sucked into the fairy realm by Wooseok who wants to show him a good time.





	The Open Door

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from an Evanescence album because it reminds me of what I would have wanted to read back then when I listened to it all the time.
> 
> I’m testing out a different writing style, and I wanted to post before going to bed. Sorry if there are any mistakes!!

It’s Friday night, and Seungyoun has a lot stress to burn. 

So much stress in fact, that holding it inside any longer would surely result in a big raging dumpster fire that would consume any and everything around him. He complained about it to the group chat, of course — his closest compatriots consisting of Han Seungwoo, Kim Yohan, and Lee Hangyul — for several days until the three of them decided that they had to get him out of his apartment before it’s too late.

Clubbing was standard. They all like music, alcohol, and getting carried away with strangers much prettier than their present company, but as they start to loosen up, Seungyoun can’t help but think that something is missing.

He gets separated although he isn’t paying attention. His current dance partner (Hangyul) has wandered off into someone’s grasp, and he’s sure they’re not just talking. He finds himself in the middle of the floor, and he can see everything from there. He can see the DJ behind his booth spinning two tracks together that, although don’t quite match, manage to keep everyone dancing. He can see the bar with purple neon lights under the top and the beads of purple sweat running down bare skin. He can see the second floor where tables are crowded with people too tired to dance. And he could see him.

He is small and wild with makeup smudged around his eyes and a savage hunger to him that pulls Seungyoun in out of his control. He’s on a platform, lit from below, and he looks like the devil. He pulls out a violin and plays, and against all logic, Seungyoun can hear every note over the ear shattering pulse of the club music and the hooping crowd around him. The music fades, as well as the clinking of glassware and the squeak of shoes on the dance floor, and all that is left is this strange boy’s violin.

The song changes and he raises his bow. He notices Seungyoun staring and winks.  _ Come find me.  _ Seungyoun shakes himself and looks around. He’s the only one on the floor not dancing. People are staring, but they don’t seem to care that much.

He stumbles off to the side and Seungwoo hands him a drink. 

“Here, you need to catch up,” Seungwoo says. He’s got his fingers through the belt loop of a boy who isn’t paying them much attention. Or at least he’s too shy to introduce himself, but Seungwoo gets what Seungwoo wants.

Seungyoun turns the drink away, already drunk, but his mouth dry. “I’m good.”

“Don’t be a baby,” Seungwoo teases. “Here we’ll join you.”

He orders another shot from the bar. It’s a suspicious blue, the kind that stains your tongue, but Seungyoun figures that was his plan the whole time. He passes it to the tall, gangly guy who looks more at home in a gaming cafe than a bar, but he turns it down.

“I don’t drink,” he says plainly. Seungwoo shrugs and tosses it back. He winks and Seungyoun.

Seungyoun accepts his amber colored shot, and it burns going down before it warms him. He’s far behind, but his head is spinning. “I need some air.”

He stumbles out, and the air is cold and the world is quiet. Everything is calm, and he props himself against the club exterior where no one can see him. He doesn’t know if he’s having a panic attack or if he’s claustrophobic. He doesn’t want to go back in, but he knows he has to. He’s the reason they’re out.

“You okay?” A voice says from the alley nearby. The dancer from before walks out into the street light, his steps pointed and catlike. 

“Yeah,” Seungyoun says. He laughs and shakes himself. It’s time to be cool and bold, and this guy is prettier than anyone he’s ever seen. “I saw you up there.”

“I saw,” he says, his voice low and hoarse despite his small frame. “I was watching you too.”

Seungyoun doesn’t know what to say, but he feels himself becoming more nervous than he normally is. He feels like he’s being observed and gauged, but the dancer just tilts his head.

“Do you want some candy?” He sticks out his tongue. Seungyoun blinks, not quite understanding what he’s supposed to do. The dancer then reaches into his own pocket and pulls out a pink piece of rock candy, wrapped in plastic. He dangles it between his fingers. It’s fine to take.

“No, thank you,” Seungyoun says, his senses telling him to run. “My mom said I shouldn’t take candy from strangers.”

The dancer smirks which turns into a wicked grin from ear to ear, flashing impossibly white teeth between wine stained lips. “Suit yourself.”

Seungyoun is ready to go inside and pretend like this never happened. Like he didn’t just deliver the lamest rejection of all time, but before he can move his legs, the dancer comes too close.

He whispers into his ear.

“Go home.”

Seungyoun wakes in his bed with the hangover from hell. The funny this is, he doesn’t remember drinking the night before. He knows he’s out of beer, and he doesn’t keep liquor in the house because his best friends are scavengers. He thinks it’s a shame they didn’t hang out together the night before. He chalks his hangover up to sleeping wrong and goes to brush his teeth. 

He’ll make it up to the guys later once he feels somewhat human again. He has dark circles under his eyes, his cheeks are hollow, and his throat feels sore and parched. He thinks he’s coming down with something which would be expected considering everyone has the flu this time of year. Maybe he can take some time off from work and then not go back. 

He washes up and goes back to his room to check his phone. There are a dozen missed calls and at least twice that many missed messages on multiple applications.

Seungwoo:  _ Dude, where’d you go? _

Seungwoo:  _ We’re waiting for you at the bar. _

Hangyul:  _ Hey can you answer your phone? Seungwoo is freaking out. _

Yohan:  _ Everyone’s worried did you pass out?  _

Seungwoo:  _ If someone stole your phone I swear to god I’ll kill them _

Hangyul:  _ We’re going home… did you leave with someone? _

Yohan:  _ Hope it was worth it... _

Seungwoo:  _ :/  _

Seungyoun looks at his phone in disbelief. He has absolutely no memory of the night before, and he’s sure that if he had gone home with somebody he would not have ended up alone in his own bed. If he is alone.

“Hello?” He calls out to no response. He checks the front door, and it’s locked so there’s no way someone could have sneaked out while he was asleep. 

He picks up his phone and calls Seungwoo who seems the most upset that he left a place he doesn’t remember being it.

The voice on the call is sleepy and out of it, but the owner is pissed enough to still sound scary.

“I can’t believe yo–,” Seungwoo starts, but Seungyoun cuts him off.

“Listen, I know you’re mad, but what happened last night? Did we hang out?”

“Yeah we hung out,” he sounds like he can’t believe Seungyoun’s question. “You took one lousy shot, and then wobbled out the door mumbling something about fresh air. I had to turn down the guy I picked up for you!”

“Hangyul said you went home with him,” Seungyoun says.

“That’s not the point,” he says, changing the subject. “The point is, you left us without so much as a goodbye and wouldn’t answer your phone, and it was really careless and stupid.”

“I’m sorry, but I honestly can’t remember even going with you guys,” he says sincerely, hoping this isn’t some kind of joke. If it is a joke they can suck it. 

“Even if you’re just saying that so that I won’t be mad at you, I’ll let it go this time, but next time you plan on blowing us off at least pay for your drinks first.”

Before Seungyoun can answer, he heard the sound of someone else in the background.

“Who’s that?” He teases.

“Mind your business,” Seungwoo mumbles and hangs up before his bed buddy catches him.

Seungyoun should feel satisfied for teasing him, but he’s unsettled. So they went to the club the night before, and he does feel hungover. He decides the best thing he can do is get back into bed and sleep it off. 

His head hits the pillow, and he’s out. He dreams about music he’s never heard before. Something sweet and dark and poisoned. He drinks it in like wine and something thick that sticks to the back of his throat.  _ Come find me. _

He gasps for air as he wakes for the second time. His head no longer hurts, but his heart is about to burst from his chest. He can’t breathe, and he feels like he’s panicking. The sting in his lungs is familiar like it happens all the time.

He feels the pulse in his neck with his fingertips and tells himself to calm down. It takes a few minutes, but he’s back to normal. He still doesn’t remember, but he decides it’s a sign he should stop drinking. Someone probably slipped him something. Fucking club rats.

He sends out his apologies again hoping they’ll forgive him for vanishining and goes to grab something to eat, but he discovers that not only is he out of beer, he’s also out of food. Delivery is a modern comfort that he is more than willing to partake in.

His day is boring and quiet. He plays video games because he feels like he’s supposed to on a Saturday, and before the sun sets, Hangyul messages him wanting to hang out again this time somewhere quiet where they can keep an eye on him. Like he’s just going to run off or something. He scoffs, but he grabs his coat anyway. 

He shoves his hands in his pockets to look for his keys, but he cuts his finger on something rigid instead. It’s pliable, but the edges are just sharp enough to tear his skin. He pulls out the card he doesn’t remember sticking in his pocket. It’s for a place he's sure he’s never been to or heard of before. There isn’t a number or an address, but a single name. The Lucky Garden. _ _ It’s a silly name, but he’s intrigued. 

He pulls out his phone to search the name, but nothing comes up. Not even a single review or forum post. As far as the internet is considered, The Lucky Garden _ _ is just three words written in black ink on a business card, but he still wants to know how it got into his pocket. He heads out the door except not to meet his friends at the bowling alley or wherever it was that they asked him to meet.

He stands on the sidewalk somewhere downtown with his hands in his pocket, clutching the card and his keys. If they did go clubbing the night before, it would have been on one of these streets knowing Seungwoo. 

He walks around for a while, but then the sun is gone and his feet ache too much to aimlessly wander around to find a place that probably never existed in the first place.

He sighs and turns back, ready to go home, but a flickering sign catches his eye. It’s old and worn out with a few dead letters, and as he comes closer he can hear the buzzing from bad wiring, but he’s sure that’s it. _The Lucky Garden_ .

The place doesn’t look open, and there’s no one outside. Not even a bouncer. He’s not sure if it’s a club, or a bar, and for all he knows it could be anything from a salon to a laundromat. They’ll probably chase him out for wandering it, but he has to  _ know.  _ He has to  _ see.  _ Maybe if he turns in the card to someone inside, the back wall will give way to an underground gambling club. He’s never gambled before, but he guesses he would be good at it.

He pulls the handle back and opens the door, not sure what to expect. It’s unlocked so they’re probably open at least, whoever they are. The first thing he sees is a narrow hall with amber bulbs in a stripe down the middle of velvet walls. It smells like lantern oil and stale cigarettes, and something else like cinnamon and cloves. He thinks it could be from cigar smoke, but he isn’t sure. 

The door shuts behind him with a loud metallic bang. He jumps, startled, and laughs at himself. 

Another thing, he notes, is that it is awfully humid inside yet chilly enough that he’s glad he wore his coat. After standing around for a while to assess the general atmosphere of this one corridor, he decides to continue on to find what rests inside.

There’s a wooden door at the end of the hall with a clanky wooden knob that rattles in his grasp. He can’t hear anything on the other side, but that doesn’t mean it’s empty. He wonders for a moment if it leads to another hall, and if it does, he’s leaving. He’s tired, and for some reason he feels like he’s forgetting something. 

He opens the door that leads to a bar. The floor is sticky, the lights are too low to properly see anything, there’s no music, and there’s no one else there. Except once his eyes adjust, he sees one person. 

He’s sitting on the bar in a position that suggests he would be sunbathing if he was outside. He looks over at Seungyoun and waves his fingers. His nails are sharp and have been filed down to a point.

“You came.”

“Have we met?” Seungyoun asks, overwhelmed by a sudden sense of dejavu that makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

“Not formally,” the other man says as he spins his body around on the counter, swinging his legs to dangle off the side. He’s fast and fidgety like he can’t stand to stay in one place for too long. “Do you want to go somewhere fun?”

“I’m just here because someone left me this card,” Seungyoun says, not sure what this guy is playing at. He feels like he walked into a trap and wishes he would have stayed home.

“No, you’re not,” he smiles. “You’re here because you heard the music.”

“What?”

He sighs and reaches behind the counter for a violin. He places it on his shoulder and plays a single, drawn out note. At first it’s sharp, but his finger moves just enough that the room is filled with a bone chilling sound and Seungyoun is blinded.

He sees Seungwoo at the club taking shots with a group of strangers. He sees Hangyul wandering off with someone he doesn’t know for more privacy. Yohan is on the dance floor with glowing bands down both of his arms, and he’s attracted a crowd. Lastly he sees the stranger on the platform staring right at him.

He stops playing, and Seungyoun doubles over. He catches himself on the ground, fingers sticking to something spilled on the floor. Something old and sugary.

“What was that,” he demands. 

The musician giggles. “See, I knew you couldn’t forget me.”

“Now,” he continues, jumping off the bar top. He’s slight and definitely shorter than Seungyoun, but his presence fills the whole room. Seungyoun takes a step back, but he just moves closer. “You can go, if you want. You can turn back right now, walk back through that door, take a cab home, and watch Netflix for the next five hours until you pass out on your couch, bored and alone.  _ Or _ you could come with me and have the time of your life.”

He flashes a smile, and for a moment Seungyoun thinks his teeth might be filed into points as well, but it was just a trick of the light.

“Why me?” Seungyoun says, buying time.

“Because I’m bored,” he says. 

Seungyoun furrows his brows. 

“Besides,” he adds. “When you live forever, sometimes you want to spend a few moments with someone who doesn’t know what little time they have.”

Seungyoun sucks his teeth. “Ah, you’re one of those role players.”

“What’s that?” He said with a smile, his eyes wide and curious.

“It’s where you dress up and pretend to–,” he stopped at the other boy’s blinking. “Never mind.”

“I would like to try that,” he says, considering it. “If you could be anything you want, what would you be?”

“Rich,” Seungyoun laughs, feeling too honest and light headed.

“And do you know what it is that rich people do?”

“What?”

“Anything they want.”

~

His name is Wooseok, and his wickedness is as fleeting as the danger in his eyes. One minute he is small and quiet, and the other he moves like a fan of knives, and Seungyoun loves it. He’s drunk on it and hopeless, and he knows when he wakes up he’s going to spend the rest of his life obsessed with this wistful fever dream. 

He learns these things quickly while they’re standing in the middle of an empty bar — alone and too close for two strangers to be. He can smell the sweat on Wooseok’s skin, tempered and sweet like black tea, and he wonders what it would taste like on his lips, but he stops himself. They’ve only just met, and he’s losing his mind already.

“So,” Wooseok says, his eyebrow raised. “Do you wanna come with me or not?”

Seungyoun considers it. He looks back at the door and wonders if it’s too late to run. He’s terrified, but he’s too curious to turn back just yet. 

“Where are we going?” He asks.

“It’s a secret,” Wooseok smiles, but it doesn’t put him at ease. Not one bit. He weighs the risks, and nothing about this situation seems like a good idea at all. “Time is running out.”

“I’ll go,” he blurts out. Second later, a cold hand grabs him and pulls him across the bar. He stumbles, but he catches himself before he trips. On the other side of the bar is another door he didn’t seem before. He grimaces and doesn’t want to go near it. The wood is gnarled and knotted and the frame is covered in mushrooms all the way around and even across the floor. He covers his mouth afraid to breathe in the spores. Wooseok laughs. 

“You don’t have to go in.”

His hand clutches his, and for a moment, Seungyoun thinks it might be more horrible if he were to let go. 

“No, it’s cool. That doesn’t bother me.”

“We’ll see,” he mumbles. Wooseok opens the door and steps through, vanishing into an endless void, and Seungyoun thinks that maybe he should back out while he still has a chance. Except he steps through to follow him, and all the air is sucked from his lungs. He’s falling through the air, and his stomach is in his throat, and he doesn’t have a chance to understand what’s happening before he hits the surface.

Seungyoun is underwater, flopping around desperately. The world is a murky blue, and he wants to scream, but he’ll drown.

He tries to swim up, but the current sucks him under. He fades.

Two hands grab him by the collar and hoist him out. He crawls on the edge of a river bank and coughs the water from his lungs. He is drenched from head to toe, and his eyes and lungs burn from the water.

“Guess I should have told you to hold your breath first,” Wooseok says, sitting in the sand next to him with his wet clothes clinging to every crevice of his body. Seungyoun pushes himself up and shakes the water from his ears. Once he finally catches his breath he looks around to discover that they’re in the middle of a field next to a winding river under a blanket of stars impossible to see from the city. His mouth drops open.

“Where are we?” He says in wonder.

“Home,” Wooseok muses. “Well, almost. This is just a depot.”

“How did we get here?” He stands up and looks around. If he started walking, it could take days to find civilization. What the hell did he get himself into?

“Magic,” Wooseok says, sounding bored. “Now, let’s go get you dried off. We have a party to get to, and I’m late enough as it is.”

“Party? Where? How?”

“Follow me,” he says, pointing to an old abandoned shack not too far away.

They trudge through the field, slick mud sucking his shoes down into an unstable ground. It feels like swamp water is pooling around his ankles, and he’s glad he chose not to wear socks even if the water was seeping between his toes.

Wooseok says he’ll go first and that Seungyoun shouldn’t look. He agrees to turn his back until the door shuts, but this feels awfully like the beginning of a horror film. Any second now a masked killer with a chainsaw could jump out and cut him to pieces. He shivers, but as the door closes behind him, he straightens himself up. He’s no coward. He pushes the door forward and steps in.

First, he’s hit by a bright glow of candle light reflecting off of crystal and marble. Second, he realizes he’s bone dry and dressed in a lavish garment that’s the deep blue of twilight with silver and gold threads running down the sleeves. It’s not any suit he’s ever seen before. Third, he’s somewhere completely different all together.

Wooseok slips a mask onto his own face. It is encrusted in rubies and disguises him completely. He looks handsome if not theatrical. He hands Seungyoun a mask encrusted in blue sapphires to match the attire he doesn’t remember putting on.

“Remember,” Wooseok says. “If you want to go home, do not accept any food or drink from anyone. If you want to stay forever, take what you want. The world is yours.”

He steps forward and disappears. Seungyoun panics and calls out for him, but he's gone. He’s in an empty ballroom by himself, and the door behind him has been replaced with a solid wall covered by a painting of a violet skinned elf on a stallion in the fashion of that one painting of Napoleon he remembers from school. The mask hangs from his fingertips, and he decides to put it on. If he’s going to lose his mind, he may as well look the part.

Once the mask covers his eyes, the room is filled with other masked dancers. He can see pieces of them where their skin is uncovered. They’re both human and somehow not. Some of them sparkle, and some have scales that change colors under the light. Their energy pulses through him, and he wants to join them.

“Care for a drink,” someone says, handing him something cold and sparkling. 

He takes the glass and puts it to his lips, but he stops himself. He hands it back to the flora dripping fairy. “No, thank you.”

She frowns. “Oh, what a pity.”

“That’s okay,” Wooseok says, wrapping his arm around him. “He’s mine.”

She looks Seungyoun up and down and shrugs. He’s been claimed. 

Wooseok is much warmer now than he was before, but he’s also different. His teeth do have a point to them, and the veins in his neck glow an eerie shade of green. He is one of them. The people who want him to drink and stay forever.

“Where did you go?” Seungyoun asks. 

“I wanted to see if you could figure it out yourself,” Wooseok smiles. He grabs a glass off of a passing platter and downs it. The red and purple hue staining his lips the color of wine. “And if you could follow the rules. I like rule breakers, but this one was more for you than for me.”

“What do I do here?” He looks around, not allowed to eat or drink and too scared to dance.

“Like I said, whatever you want,” Wooseok smiles, but Seungyoun is careful. There are rules, he’s learned. Wooseok wants him to break them, but if he breaks them, something terrible could happen. He has to be clever.

“I want to dance,” he says. “With you.”

He drags Wooseok onto the floor, and he is light as a feather but stronger than anyone he’s ever met. The music changes to something that reminds him of the crackle of fire. Wooseok wraps his arms around his neck, and Seungyoun learns this is definitely not a nightclub. 

They’re so close he’s sure the other boy can hear the pounding in his chest. Wooseok presses himself against him and buries his face in his neck, and Seungyoun’s knees buckle.

“Careful,” Wooseok says barely audible. “Wouldn’t want you to fall.”

“I think I already have,” he says before he can stop himself. He runs his hand down Wooseok’s body because the music tells him he has to. Wooseok bites him, and he lets out a gasp. But then the music changes again, and he’s suddenly embarrassed. His cheeks are red, and he steps a step back to apologize.

“I don’t know what got into me,” he says, wanting to run and hide.

“In our tongue, thag song was called Desire, and it makes you go after what you really want,” Wooseok says, but he sounds like he’s teasing. “This song is called Repent, and as you can see, yours isn’t the only flushed face.”

Seungyoun looks around and several people have pulled away from their partners. He takes a breath and relaxes.

Wooseok reaches up and slips a cold hand behind his neck and pulls him down to him.

“That’s what happens when humans repress themselves,” he whispers. His mouth barely brushes against Seungyoun’s who responds with idly parting his lips, expecting.

Wooseok lingers and smiles. “You must be starving.”

They leave the ballroom and walk into a banquet hall. There are two vacant seats next to each other in front of mounds of food he never dreamed of. Once he sits down, he weighs if the risks aren’t in fact worth the reward. So what if he never goes home? He could just live here with all of this food.

“What do you like?” Wooseok asks, gesturing to the food before picking up a sugar coated pastry for himself. It’s purple and the dust falls onto the table, and it tears apart slowly as Wooseok pulls it in half to taste the lemon center. 

Seungyoun gulps. “I like everything.”

“Go ahead,” he says with a fool mouth. 

“But you said…”

“I give you permission from the lord of something something of the Unseelie Court to eat whatever you want without consequence,” he waves his hand. “Damn titles. Jinhyuk, what am I?”

“I think the Lord of Mischief and Virtue this month,” the fairy named Jinhyuk says, and although he’s wearing a mask, Seungyoun is sure he’s seen him before too. 

“Virtue?!” Wooseok whines. “Who do I look like? When does the month end? I want something better.”

He scoffs and continues to complain. “Mischief and Virtue… what am I, a hobgoblin but chaste about it? Really…”

Jinhyuk pops a grape in his mouth. “Guess you pissed off the wrong elf.”

Wooseok slumps in his chair, bitter and annoyed. “Now my whole night is ruined.”

“What’s your title,” Seungyoun asks. Now that he’s allowed to eat, his mood is much better, and he decides that if he’s going to have to continue with this dream, he might as well enjoy himself. 

Jinhyuk thinks for a moment. “I think it’s the Duke of Mist and Harmony.”

“ _ Mist and Harmony _ ,” Wooseok says, flabbergasted. “Did you switch courts? That sounds ridiculous!”

Jinhyuk nods and picks at a piece of chicken, avoiding eye contact. “It’s just a temporary transfer.”

“For how long?” Wooseok sits back up.

“About thirty years, I think.”

“This night just keeps getting worse,” he says. “Tell me, Seungyoun, what title do you want.”

“Do I get a title?”

“You can have anything you want,” he says again, but every time he says it, it drips with a different meaning.

“What’s the difference between Duke and Lord,” he asks.

“There isn’t one,” both Jinhyuk and Wooseok say.

“Can I pick anything?”

They both answer with something along the lines of a yes.

“What if it’s taken,” he asks, suddenly into this game for some reason.

“Then I’ll kill whoever it belongs to this month,” Wooseok says, and Seungyoun is sure he’s teasing.

“King of the Unseelie Court,” Seungyoun says, playfully, but the room becomes silent. 

Jinhyuk stands up, his chair sliding back so haphazardly that it almost tumbles to the floor. “He’s joking everyone! Back to the party!”

But Wooseok can’t take his eyes off of him. He has his tongue in his cheek, and his eyes are wild. His nails tap the table, the only sound in the room.

“Is that what you want?” Wooseok asks. 

Seungyoun’s heart pounds in his chest as if he’s just made an unfixable mistake, but this was his dream, and he was sticking with it.

“Sure,” he says. “If it’s that easy.”

Wooseok looks off and smirks. He grabs a flute of something black off of the table and drinks it. The room loses interest, and their voices are covered again. “If it’s that easy.”

“You can’t be serious,” Jinhyuk says to Wooseok. “You  _ can’t.” _

“You switched sides remember,” Wooseok says, coldly. “And, brother, things have been so  _ goddamn  _ boring lately.”

“No,” Jinhyuk sits down and slaps the table. “I will not let you murder the king. If you even think about it, I’ll tell every guard here, and you’ll be locked away until your wings rot.”

Wooseok pouts and crosses his arms. “You never let me have any fun.”

“You got to bring your own human,” Jinhyuk whispers sharply. “Mine took me home, and then sent me off with cab money like I was some kind of… some kind of….”

Wooseok snorts.

“Shut up!” 

“Ah!” Seungyoun interrupts. “That’s where I know you from! You were with Seungwoo last night! I thought you said you don’t drink.”

“I don’t,” Jinhyuk says, downing another flute. He makes a satisfied sound and gets up. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some guards to alert.”

“You wouldn’t!” Wooseok cries out.

“Relax, I’m not giving them your name or your stupid title.”

“You weren’t really going to do it, though, right?” Seungyoun asks once Jinhyuk is gone.

Wooseok smirks against his glass.

“Right?” Seungyoun asks again, nervous.

Wooseok rolls his head across the back of the seat and bats his eyes at him. “What would you say if I said I’d do anything for you?”

Seungyoun chokes. “That’s crazy.”

“Yes, but it’s fun to watch you squirm,” he says. “I would have killed him because he’s a nosy prick who made me the Lord of fucking Virtue. Me! I’ll show him who’s virtuous.”

Seungyoun, unsure of how to resolve Wooseok’s sour mood, suggests they go for a walk. Wooseok shrugs but gets up and leads him to the gardens.

“Thank you for inviting me,” Seungyoun says. “You don’t have to babysit me though. I’m quite social, and I’m sure you have a lot of unvirtuous things you would like to get to.”

He’s only teasing, but Wooseok’s eyes flicker. “I’m not.”

“You’re not what?”

“Quite social,” he says. “I’m bored, and I don’t like these things. They’re so fake and boring. You know who the best liars are? Fairies. They’re all lying about how much fun they’re having, and you know what, after thousands of years of this shit, it’s only fun if someone dies.”

As Wooseok goes on, he darkens, and he no longer looks human, but instead of feeling afraid, Seungyoun feels bad for him.

“So, who should we kill?” He asks. “The Baron of Bugs and Berries or the Magistrate of Mass Hysteria.”

Wooseok pretends that he doesn’t hear him, but he smiles to himself. His features soften from behind the mask back to something almost normal.

“You’d do that for me?”

“I’d do anything for you,” he teases.

Wooseok claps delightedly. “Good! You’re learning how to lie!”

He grabs his hand and pulls him back in. This time Seungyoun doesn’t trip over his feet because he’s learned to anticipate this. 

In his circle of friends he was the loud one, the wild one, the center of attention, but here he feels shy and out of place. The biggest indicator of that is that there are only a hand full of humans, and some, he notices, have broken the rules. 

“He can’t leave can he,” he whispers to Wooseok, referring to a man who is shoving sweets down his throat while a gaggle of sprites dance around him. 

“Nope,” Wooseok says. “He won’t last more than a couple of days.”

Seungyoun swallows, a pang of guilt in his belly.

“None of that,” Wooseok adds. “He knew when he came, yet he could not control himself.”

“I thought you said humans shouldn’t suppress themselves.”

“I did,” he shrugs. “I’m thirsty.”

Seungyoun frowns, and he doesn’t want to follow him. Wooseok returns with two glasses. One is clear with rose petals suspended through the glass, and the other is green and murky and not very appetizing.

“Choose one,” he says.

Seungyoun reaches for the clear glass, but he stops himself. Lies here are sweet and pretty. He takes the green drink that will surely make his stomach churn. Wooseok smiles and clinks their glasses. 

“Self control is not shoving a pastry down your throat when you think no one is looking,” Wooseok gestures for him to drink. “Suppression is telling yourself you’re not allowed to have what you want even if you’ve earned it.”

Seungyoun tastes the drink and discovers that it’s sweet like citrus and banana with a hint of something earthy. He coughs and laughs. “Is this a green smoothie?”

Wooseok flashes all his teeth. “Yes! A daily dose of vitamins.”

Seungyoun relaxes. He’s getting the hang of this. “So what’s that!”

Wooseok smacks his tongue and pours it out into a nearby potted plant. “Gelatin.”

Overcome by Wooseok’s cute disgusted expression. He finishes his drink and pulls him onto the dancefloor.

“Why?” Wooseok says, his voice catching in his throat, taken off guard for once.

Seungyoun shrugs and dips him to the music, and Wooseok laughs until his eyes squeeze shut, bent backwards parallel to the floor. He whips him back up to his feet, and Wooseok collapses into his arms, giggly and free. 

A crowd gathers around them, and the music becomes bright and lively like sunshine. They swing each other around, and he doesn’t worry for a moment that he’ll fall. The others cheer them on, but all he can hear is the music and Wooseok’s laughter. It’s a beautiful sound.

He pulls Wooseok to his chest and lifts him off the ground. “What song is this?”

“I shouldn’t tell you,” Wooseok teases, feet barely touching the floor.

“Why not?”

“It’s a secret.”

The song changes again, and they’re separated, but he thinks that might have been Wooseok’s intention. Instead, he finds Jinhyuk against the wall chewing on some kind of jelly candy. “Did you gets those from Seungwoo?”

“Mmm,” he says. “We can’t make these for some reason, and he had the bag in his nightstand drawer.”

“That’s not all he keeps there,” Seungyoun smirked.

“The green drink?” 

“Yeah, what about it?”

Jinhyuk smiles to himself. “It’s delicious isn’t it?”

“Can I ask you something,” Seungyoun asks, now sure that he had been tricked again. “The last song, what was it called?”

“Ahhh,” Jinhyuk says. “I could tell you, but it’s going to cost you.”

“Name your price,” he says.

“Just some information.”

“What kind of information could I possibly have for you?” He’s getting nervous. He knows Wooseok will be back at any moment.

“Is your friend single?”

Seungyoun blinks. “Yeah, he’s single.”

“Good,” Jinhyuk smiles to himself. Seungyoun can barely believe that was all he wanted to know.

“I guess in your language the song is called Soulmates.”

~

Fairy music has a way of making the listener experience things they never thought possible. For Seungyoun, it is the feeling that he belongs with someone. That there is a whole other person in the world designated by the stars or the gods or fate just for him. It’s an illusion that he has been swept up in all of the sudden like the guests who can’t stop consuming sweets. He bites his tongue and pretends like he doesn’t know. He doesn’t want to know.

Wooseok returns, his flushed cheeks peeking out from behind his mask. He’s out of breath like he’s been running, and for some reason Seungyoun’s heart sinks.

“Where have you been,” Jinhyuk asks, also picking up on Wooseok’s wild energy. 

“Like I would let you foil my plans,” he winks, then he takes Seungyoun’s hand. For once he is warm. His whole body radiates heat, and Seungyoun wonders what he has been doing. “The Lord of Mischief and Virtue and the Magistrate of Mismanaged, uh, Mayflowers have business to attend.”

“He means me,” Seungyoun says. “I think.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Jinhyuk rolls his eyes, jealous from being left out.

Wooseok drags him away back into the gardens. He looks over his shoulder to make sure that no one is looking before he pulls out an old key made of bone. He wiggles it and shoves it back into his pocket.

“What’s that for?” Seungyoun asks, but Wooseok ignores him. Instead he skips off to a large shrub wall with a locked gate. He jiggles the key a bit, but soon it opens.

“Let’s go,” he says.

It’s a maze, that’s for sure. Seungyoun isn’t sure about this, but suddenly they hear angry shouts back at the mansion, and they both run down the maze path to hide.

“Isn’t this fun?” Wooseok says. “I’ve always wanted to go through one of these.”

“I’ve never been in one either,” Seungyoun ponders. 

They walk through the maze together safe behind a locked gate. Seungyoun’s empty hand swings until it finds Wooseok’s fingers. Wooseok doesn’t look at him, but he smiles anyway and squeezes Seungyoun’s hand.

“What is this maze, and why is it locked off?” Seungyoun asks, breaking a silence that put him in danger of thinking too much.

“Hmm,” Wooseok thinks. “To put it simply, there’s an entrance for both Courts, and they don’t want us walking back and forth like we’re free to do whatever we want or something.”

“So what happens when we get to the other side,” he asks, concerned they could cause more trouble.

Wooseok smiles. “I didn’t steal that key.”

“Oh,” he laughs, relaxed. 

They reach a clearing at the center of the maze. There are marble benches to sit on under a clear moonlit sky. He wonders if it’s the same moon he sees at home, but then he remembers that this isn’t real.

Wooseok sits first and pats the space next to him. “This is nice.”

He sits next to him, close enough to brush against his arm. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“No tricks.”

Wooseok wrinkles his nose.

_ “No tricks,”  _ Seungyoun insists.

“Fine, no tricks,” he agrees.

“Are you happy?”

Wooseok sighs. He doesn’t have to say anything. Seungyoun cups his cheek in his hands and tilts his head up to him. He kisses him once, barely touching his lips. But then he kisses him a second time, and Wooseok reaches his hand behind Seungyoun’s head and pulls him closer. They melt into each other, and Wooseok is on his back on the marble, Seungyoun between his legs, straddling the seat.

“If I take this off, will I no longer be able to see you,” Seungyoun whispers against his mouth.

“You can take off whatever you want,” he says, coy, but his voice shakes giving him away. Seungyoun pulls off his own mask and tosses it to the side, and Wooseok does the same. Even in just the moonlight, Seungyoun can see the imprint it left behind in Wooseok’s skin, and he kisses the crease. Wooseok runs his fingers through Seungyoun’s hair. “I like you much better like this.”

“Like what?” He says, kissing Wooseok down the cheek and to his neck, biting into the crook. 

Wooseok lets out a moan and steadies himself. “Real. Out here. Not– like– hey, hold on for a minute.”

Seungyoun gives him a gentle no before sucking at the skin, making Wooseok dig his nails into his back.

“Listen you!” Wooseok pretends to protest through giggles.

“Shhh,” Seungyoun says. “I’m defiling the Lord of Mischief and Virtue.”

Wooseok snorts. “I’ll show you mischief.”

He pushes himself up and grabs Seungyoun by the fairy garment. It unravels at his touch leaving an exposed chest. Wooseok grins wildly. 

Seungyoun, who could be embarrassed, is infected by Wooseok’s mischievous nature. “You can do better than that.

Wooseok pulls him up, eager to prove himself. He runs his fingernails gently down his chest to his stomach, sending a shiver down his spine. Seungyoun grabs him and kisses him, almost knocking Wooseok off his feet. Once he gets his balance he slips his hand between Seungyoun’s legs where the fabric comes apart. Seungyoun gasps into his mouth, but his fingers find the edges of Wooseok’s clothes, dropping them to the ground.

It isn’t long before they’re in the grass. The oddly green veins stand out especially in the moonlight, and Seungyoun’s tongue finds all of them. Wooseok’s head tilts back and his eyes close. Seungyoun catches the smile across his lips, and doesn’t want to wait anymore.

He kisses down Wooseok’s stomach, stopping at the hip bones where he nibbles at them with his teeth. Wooseok shudders, and he knows he likes it. He moves down his thighs alternating between kisses and bites until the other boy is shaking.

He rubs his hands up between both thighs and a moan escapes Wooseok’s lips.

“Please,” he whispers.

“What was that?” Seungyoun teases.

“ _ Please,”  _ he says, desperate and clear.

Seungyoun clutches him at the base to take all of him with his mouth. He moves up and down and flicks his tongue in different ways to make Wooseok shutter. When he’s finished, he sits back satisfied. Wooseok lays on the ground, covering his face with his arms.

“I don’t think you can call yourself the Lord of Virtue anymore,” Seungyoun says.

Wooseok shakes his head. “I showed them all.” 

Seungyoun lays down next to him, happy to make him happy again without any lies or tricks of fairy courts.

Wooseok sits up and swings a leg over him.

“What are you doing?” Seungyoun asks, hopeful.

“Finding a better title,” he says, removing the last of Seungyoun’s clothes. He kisses him again, his mouth hot, and it isn’t long before Seungyoun is pressing against him. Wooseok smiles and licks his lips.

Seungyoun reaches down to position himself against Wooseok. His skin is soft and cool against him.

“Are you okay like this,” he asks, not wanting to hurt him.

Wooseok nods and pushes himself down. Seungyoun gasps for air. He’s never felt anything like this before with anyone else, and he thinks he’s not going to be able to last very long. Wooseok knows what he’s doing to him, and he moves in dangerous ways once he’s used to him.

Not soon after, Seungyoun is on top of Wooseok, and they both finish together, out of breath and covered in sweat.

Seungyoun leans down and kisses him again. Wooseok frowns like he’s going to cry before a single tear slips down his cheek.

“I don’t want to go,” Seungyoun whispers.

_ “You have to.” _

Seungyoun wakes in his bed covered in sweat alone in his room. He grabs his pillow and sobs into it, fighting an ache in his chest he’s never felt before. He screams into it until he’s out of breath. He rolls over and weakly punches his bed.

“What’s happening to me?” He cries out. 

Everything hurts, but he can’t remember why. He cries until he’s completely drained, and then he forces himself to get up.

It’s Sunday. He remembers leaving to hang out with his friends, but he must have had too much to drink. He checks his phone to a dozen missed calls and twice as many unread messages.

Seungwoo:  _ wtf not again _

Hangyul:  _ can’t believe you blew us off _

Yohan:  _ you need to call Seungwoo  _

Seungwoo:  _ no don’t call me I’m blocking your number _

Seungyoun picks up his phone and calls Seungwoo immediately.

“Oh, look who it is,” Seungwoo says through the phone.

“I’m sorry, I think I’m coming down with something. I haven’t been feeling well,” his voice shakes.

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t know… I can’t remember…”

“If you want, we can come over–.”

“No, that’s okay.”

But Seungwoo ends up coming over anyway with Hangyul and Yohan. All three of them point out that he looks like garbage, but he insists that it’s the flu. He doesn’t want them to know that he cried all morning for no reason. 

They order food, and Seungwoo makes him take a bunch of supplements and wear a mask even though it’s his own house. They play video games all day, and at least he knows this time no one could yell at him for disappearing. 

It’s a good day, but for some reason he feels like his heart has been ripped out of his chest and he doesn’t know why.

Two weeks later, he is still having the dreams. Every night he dreams about a masquerade ball, but he can’t see anyone’s faces. The dream always ends with him running through a maze and waking up in a cold sweat. 

It’s Friday afternoon, and he has a lot of stress to burn. He’s sick of clubs, and instead chooses to walk around his neighborhood alone before it gets dark. It’s colder outside than it was, but it keeps him calm. He doesn’t think about absent hearts and bad dreams when he shivers.

He’s in line for a food vendor for a hot cup of tea to wrap his hands around, when something catches the corner of his eye. He looks, but whatever it is, is gone. 

He pays for his drink and huddles it close to himself. He thinks he’s ready to go home when he sees someone standing across the street, staring at him. 

“Wooseok?” He mutters a name he’s never spoken before.

The person is definitely looking at him.

“Wooseok!” He shouts out. 

The other person turns and walks away briskly in the opposite direction.

“Hey!” He shouts out, dropping his cup on the ground. “Come back!”

He runs across the street after him, almost getting hit by a car, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t notice the angry driver shouting at him. The other person turns a corner down an alley, and Seungyoun runs as fast as he can. He can’t lose him, he suspects, for the second time.

He turns the corner, and two hands grab him and pull him into a kiss. He wants to fight him off, but this isn’t a stranger’s touch. 

“Wooseok,” he says, his lip shaking.

Wooseok smiles up to him and cups his cheek. “I knew you couldn’t forget me.”

Seugyoun wraps his arms around him and pulls him closer. He presses his face into Wooseok’s shoulder and cries. “Don’t make me forget you again. It’s too mean.”

Wooseok wraps his arms around his neck and whispers, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

They sit on a park bench. Seungyoun won’t let Wooseok out of his sight and insists on holding his hand at all times. 

“How are you here?” He asks.

“I’ve been,” Wooseok pauses to find the right words. “Kicked out for a while.”

“Oh?”

“They caught me,” he laughs. “Theft, conspiracy, defilement... among other things. Which is normally fine for our side, but apparently I did all of them at the Unseelie King’s birthday party. Who knew?”

“For how long?” Seungyoun asks with selfish intentions. 

“We only took about an hour, if my guess is close,” Wooseok says.

Seungyoun blushes. “I mean, how long are you kicked out for.”

“Hmm, about how long is a human lifespan?”

“Maybe 90 years?”

Wooseok looks over at Seungyoun and inspects him. “Then about 70 years, give or take.”

“You’re gauging that off of me?” He asks surprised.

“They thought it would do me some good,” he scoffs. “Me! The Champion of Truth and Wine!”

“Is that your new title,” he teases as he slips his arm around his waist.

Wooseok can’t hide his smile although he pretends to be annoyed. “Just wait until you find out what they call you.”

“What do they call me?”

“I can’t. It’s too embarrassing.”

_ “What is it?” _

“The Prince of Noisy Orga–,” Wooseok says, but is stopped by Seungyoun’s hand over his mouth.

“Don’t!”

“I warned you!” Wooseok said from behind his hand.

“I can’t believe this,” he says, humiliated. “Wait a minute. Prince?”

“Ah, yeah, I guess you’re next in line.”

_ “What?” _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I just wanted to write something fun with SeungSeok while I had some free time. Please let me know what you think!!
> 
> (wooseok totally murdered the king when he stole the gate key just saying)


End file.
